Proper Care of Colonels
by tigermoth26
Summary: The universe really doesn't like him today.


Proper Care of Colonels   
  
*Plip!*  
  
*Plip...plop...*  
  
Jack glared in the general direction of the tent's ceiling.  
  
*Plip.*  
  
The tent was leaking.  
  
*Plop!*  
  
...On him, no less.  
  
A cold drop of water blopped him on the head.  
  
So not impressed.  
  
He blinked as the puddle of water forming on his forehead flooded and trickled uncomfortably down his neck.  
  
Great.  
  
*Ploop!*  
  
His sleeping bag was soaked. (Who the hell made these crappy things anyway?).  
  
Jack carefully stuck out his hand and patted it on the tarpaulin sheet to his left.  
  
*Splish! Splash! Splosh!*  
  
Fan-tastic. It seemed that someone had replaced the (allegedly) waterproof (heh...yeah right) plastic with a small, yet somewhat inconvenient replica of the Great Lakes. His hand probed the area of floor to his right side. Great...at least Carter's side of the tent was dry.  
  
The soggy Colonel shivered in his equally soggy sleeping-bag and considered his options: He could (a) Stay in his wet, useless sleeping-bag, and freeze his ass off. Or he could (b) Move to the left, and take a midnight swim in his own personal indoor-lake....Or finally, (c) Exit his sleeping bag, and stay warm by getting into the sleeping bag with Carter.  
  
Jack slapped a hand wetly to his forehead. Oy. Talk about being stuck between your Second-In-Command and a wet place...but it was, somewhat of an ingenious idea...  
  
*Blop...*  
  
Jack growled. Right. That did it. Before he could think of reasons why his -great- idea was not-so great, O'Neill had shrugged out of his sleeping bag and was gently shaking the shoulder of his 2IC.  
  
"Mmph...banana hair gel...Jonas...wurble..."  
  
What the? Okay...probably best not to ask. Jack shivered in the cold air. Uh-Oh, shrinkage. The modern man's worst nightmare...  
  
"Carter, hey. Wake up!"  
  
"MmmBanannananaa..."  
  
"Carter!"  
  
The sleeping woman woke up with a start. "Woah! Huh? Are we under attack?"  
  
Jack placed a calming hand upon her shoulder. "No, no. Nothing like that." He whispered, "It's just...my sleeping bag is wet."  
  
*Plip...*  
  
There was a short, awkward silence.   
  
"Uh...Sir?"  
  
The Colonel waved his hands about frantically in the dark. "No no no no no, Carter. I didn't wet the sleeping bag, the -rain- did."  
  
He heard the Major shuffling, turning, he imagined, to face him in the dark. "Oh. And...?" She replied groggily.  
  
Jack nearly rolled his eyes out of his head. "And I was hoping that I could get in there with you."  
  
*Plip...Plop...Sploosh!*  
  
"Um...in where Sir?"  
  
*Plop*  
  
Jack sighed dramatically. "Your sleeping bag Carter. It's dry in there...and warm too, whereas, mine..." he gestured pointlessly in the direction of his own sodden bag, "...is not. You don't want the leader of SG-1 to suffer from irreversible shrinkage, do you?"  
  
There was a groan of irritation from Carter's side of the tent. "Too much information, Sir." She mumbled. He heard the sound of her sleeping-bag zipper being opened. "Alright then, Colonel. Get in."  
  
Jack grinned. Ah, warm at last! He crawled forward on his hands and knees to...find Carter's hand placed firmly against his chest.  
  
"Uh...Sir?"  
  
The Colonel frowned, shivering. "What now Major?"  
  
"...your clothes are wet."  
  
Jack's cold-addled brain registered the water-loggedness of his pants and tee-shirt.   
  
"Oh."  
  
Oh.  
  
Carter's hand disappeared. The bag rustled. "You'll uh - have to..."  
  
"Take them..."  
  
The mind boggled.  
  
"...off..."  
  
"...off..."  
  
Oh indeed.   
  
Jack shivered as he fingered the sodden material of his uniform. He shivered again at the thought of sliding naked into a sleeping bag with Samantha Carter.  
  
Major Samantha Carter, USAF, Service number OF713 - 5872, SG-1 2IC. No less...  
  
*Ploop!*  
  
Suddenly, his ingenious Plan-For-Dryness didn't seem like such a fine idea after all...  
  
*Blop.*  
  
Carter's hand reappeared gently upon his sodden knee.   
  
"Look Sir, um - why don't you just take your wet clothes off quickly and get in. It's not anything that I haven't already seen anyway...and it's dark...and we're both adults, I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to try anything and..."  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"...Yessir?"  
  
"Your logic annoys me."  
  
"Um...thanks Sir...I think..."  
  
Jack sighed. Damn. He hated it when her logic was...logical. His chilled body progressed to a new level of refrigeration. Jack weighed the options in his mind.  
  
Shrinkage or Warmth. Sam or Hypothermia.  
  
*Trickle...*  
  
O'Neill took a deep breath and took all of his wet clothes off. Sam and Warmth it was then. They'd deal with the embarrassment later. He threw the ball of dripping clothing into a wet heap on the waterlogged side of the tent. He lifted the side of the sleeping bag and slipped one ice-cold foot in.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
*Plip!*  
  
"Ready."  
  
Jack wriggled his shivering body fully inside of the one-person bag and zippered up the slit. He felt the welcome warmth of the bag seep back into his rain-chilled body, and the heat of Sam Carter, squished up warm and firmly against his back.  
  
Hot...damn...  
  
"Goodnight Sir."  
  
Her hot breath tickled along the nape of his neck. Certain bits of his anatomy experienced the tingling effects of rapid reverse-shrinkage.   
  
"Goodnight Carter..." He almost-squeaked, "Sleep...uh...well."  
  
The Major shifted slightly against his naked skin. "You too Sir."  
  
Oh Boy.  
  
Jack sighed.   
  
It was going to be one hell of a hard night...  
  
End. 


End file.
